


Godborn

by Not_All_Who_Wander_Are_Lost



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Apollo misses the days of nude statues, Apollo vs Gilgamesh sparkle-off included, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Demigods, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Humor, I played a bit of the game once, Knights - Freeform, Lime, Modern Era, Mostly research and anime-based, Multi, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Slow Romance, Suggestive Themes, Supernatural Elements, Thor is absent dad, he feels bad about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_All_Who_Wander_Are_Lost/pseuds/Not_All_Who_Wander_Are_Lost
Summary: "Did you really think that the old legends just died out and the only heroes around were the ones you brought back from the dead? Do you read at all? Asking some of the gods to keep it in their pants is like telling the knights around here to give up chivalry. Not gonna happen. We're still around, we just prefer to keep to ourselves."No child chooses their parentage, and Theresa Macdonough has long since decided that if she could have, she would have opted out of her godly heritage. It's made for a difficult life, despite the nice gifts Grandfather occasionally sends and the amusing visits from her great uncle. It's what draws the eye of Chaldea, for instance, the director of which seems to have it in his head that modern demigods are one of the keys to saving humanity that the organization has been searching for. She has no desire to be a hero, despite her natural tendency toward protecting others.For her pseudo-sister Helena, things are different. With only a trace of human blood in her veins, she has never felt at home among humans or even among her fellow demigods. Chaldea provides the safety and sense of belonging she desires. And, perhaps, the love she never thought she would have.
Relationships: Gawain | Saber/Original Female Character(s), Gilgamesh | Archer/Original Female Character(s), Gilgamesh | Caster & Original Female Character(s), Karna | Lancer of Red/Original Character(s), Lancelot of the Lake | Saber/Original Character(s), Lots of platonic ships - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	1. Demigod Fight Club

To the passing stranger, the man in the non-descript gray suit was just another commuter on the London underground. Red tie slightly askew and left in a bout of forgetfulness, hair a bit mussed from aggravated hands carded through it one too many times, suit wrinkled from the day's wear, his appearance was perfect, right down to the way he would occasionally reach up to grip the back of his neck to rub at an ache that came from bending over a computer for too long. If she hadn't been who she was, Theresa never would have seen the discrepancies. As it was, it had taken her nearly five full minutes to identify just who was causing the chill down her spine. Her eyes slid over him again in a quick glance before flicking away. He was too tense, like he was readying himself for sudden movement, whereas those around him, the real commuters, were relaxed with end-of-the-day exhaustion. She recognized it only because it was something she'd needed to drill out of herself after a close call on a bus.

There were other tells, smaller things, like the little dark watch that wasn't _quite_ nice enough for a businessman of his apparent status. They weren't enough to turn her wary, even with the odd tense posture of his body. What set her on edge were his eyes. He'd glanced up from his evening newspaper when she'd allowed her gaze to rest for a moment too long. Framed by glasses, his eyes were intensely focused, not like those of the others in their car. They should have been tired if he was what he seemed to be, bloodshot from staring at a computer screen. Instead, when he met her eyes, his own widened slightly before he quickly moved on in a forced-casual manner.

Theresa internally sighed. Of course someone would decide to ruin today. It had been going so well, she'd gotten a nicely sized paycheck, Helena had texted to tell her that she'd just purchased the latest Marvel film for their movie-and-thai-food night, and she'd landed a match against a promising challenger, which was sure to be a big score. It honestly couldn't get much better.

And then there was this asshole.

An automated, feminine voice rang out from the overhead speakers, announcing that the train was coming up on its Victoria Station stop. Theresa glanced up, nonchalantly slipping her phone from her pocket and opening her conversation with Helena. It wasn't that she wasn't confident in her abilities to deal with the man should he prove dangerous, it was that she didn't know what he was. Likely not supernatural. At least, she wasn't getting the 'imminent danger' vibes she normally got around inhuman creatures. Her thumbs slid over the touch screen, tapping out a quick message.

_Might be a little late. Got a sp watching me._

A bubble appeared on screen almost immediately, heralding Helena's response, no doubt quickened by their shorthand for 'suspicious person'. Theresa's lips quirked. It had taken her a long while to convince her roommate that keeping a method of contact at her hip at all times was essential. She was doing much better.

_Cop?_

Theresa glanced at the man again, just in time to see him quickly look away.

_Not likely._

A regular policeman wouldn't have put so much effort into blending in. She also ruled out something like a private investigator because she'd been far too careful to have drawn that sort of attention. At least, that's what she believed.

_Other?_

_I'm not getting any readings._

There was a pause. The train was beginning to slow, its brakes screeching as it neared the platform. Helena's next response came through.

_Mage?_

Theresa paused. She hadn't thought of that. The Clocktower wasn't too terribly far away and magus activity wasn't uncommon in this area. But, they had never taken an interest in her, and she had avoided them, doing her best to blend in like a normal human. The train came into the station at that moment. Theresa quickly stood, jamming her phone back into her pocket. Those others who were departing began to move en masse toward the doors, carrying her along with them. As soon as she stepped onto the cement platform, she did her best to just slip into the crowd.

In her pocket, her phone buzzed, and, as she moved quickly up the steps that would take her back to the surface, she risked a glance.

_Watch urself. Call if u need me._

As if she needed the warning. The little reminder of present backup was nice, though. A quick tap over the letter 'k' was her only response as she continued to move with the press of the crowd. She didn't have to worry about acting natural. For her, this little jaunt was a weekly procedure. She simply walked with the others around her, bearing herself upright and proud to deter any unsavory individuals who may set their eyes on her. Her plain black coat hugged her frame, emphasizing the almost uncommon breadth of her shoulders. She was quite tall for a woman, which occasionally drew attention, but, the hard glint in her grey eyes served to ward off any who might become too curious, a subtle warning that she had little patience for those who may obstruct her way.

The chill on her spine remained, and a quick glance back told her that the man was still there, moving through the crowd not far behind her. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Had it not been for that sense of danger, she wouldn't have bothered with him. As it was, she faced forward again, mentally sizing him up. He was smaller than her, both in height and width, but, she'd faced smaller opponents before who had nearly left her bloody in the ring. Still, if it came down to a fight, they couldn't do it here, where there were so many witnesses and those who may call the human authorities.

Theresa slipped through a particularly thick bunch of people, using her size to her advantage, and down a side hall that remained unused by the general populace. As she stepped into the hall, she felt the brush of enchantment over her skin, something only those with a magic sense would notice. It wasn't particularly strong, just a deflection that caused regular people to be aware of the hall but see no need to use it, or even explore it. It was a handy spell, and, unfortunately, not one that Theresa herself knew.

She was immediately alone, soft-soled shoes quiet on the hard floor. The harsh white shine of the lights overhead glinted off white-blonde hair as it fell in a thick braid down her back, nearly reaching her waist. It was a stark contrast from the black of her coat and pants, as was her pale skin. Her hands were shoved nonchalantly into her coat pockets, something that would have worked to allow her to seem more normal if not for the strong posture with which she carried herself.

She was only fifty or so feet down the hall when she heard another set of steps. She glanced back and saw the man, who had abandoned his 'common businessman' act. He met her gaze directly, picking up his pace, black dress shoes clicking obnoxiously. Up ahead was a bend in the hall, around which was the door to her destination. She considered for a moment, wondering if she should just make a run for it and be done with the man. But, Mattie wouldn't like it if she brought some mage to his door. It would be a near violation of the "Demigod Fight Code" as he called it, the first rule being 'Don't talk about Demigod fight club', of course. Mattie's ire aside, she didn't like that this guy seemed to think that he could just tail her without repercussions.

She merely faced forward again and continued on, not speeding up as she began to round the bend.

"Excuse me."

Theresa scoffed softly at the attempt to halt her steps, continuing on without concern. The man realized her intentions and broke into a jog, aiming to catch up with her before she made it around the bend.

He failed to do so. As soon as she was certain they were both out of sight of the main tunnel, she turned. He was inches away, hand extended to grab her shoulder. Mistake.

Theresa's body moved almost instinctually, one hand moving to grip his wrist, the other aimed for his throat. She twisted with a surprising speed, particularly for a woman of her size and build. As her fingers enclosed around his wrist, she saw the man's eyes widened and allowed herself a flash of satisfaction. One of the very nice things about being the child of a warrior god was the physical prowess it granted. Her father was the god of strength, which granted her a great amount of physical power naturally, but, when combined with the athleticism of most demigods and any amount of training, it was devastating. Opponents often assumed that she would move slowly due to her build, and catching them off-guard never ceased to amuse her.

The man moved to counter, reaching up to guard his neck, but, he wasn't quite fast enough to stop her. She completed the motion of her body by using her momentum to ram him back and up, pinning him against the wall. A choking sound left him as he made impact, his head smacking into the tile. He was dazed, but, he managed to grip the hand that held his throat with a surprising amount of strength. He hung there, pinned by his neck and one wrist, his feet dangling a few inches from the floor, toes just barely touching the ground. After the first moment of shock and pain wore off, his eyes refocused on her and he sucked in a sharp breath. She hadn't applied enough pressure to choke him, not yet, at least. But, her hold on him certainly wasn't comfortable.

"Stop," he wheezed out, "Just wanna talk."

A London accent. Interesting.

"And you showed that by following a lone woman down a hallway with no one else around?" Theresa's tone was calm and touched by some disbelief.

He held her wrist tightly, not making any move to break free yet, despite the obvious discomfort in his pinched expression. "Had to verify it was you…Theresa Macdonough" he strained.

Theresa's eyes narrowed, her grip on his neck tightening enough that he took in another sharp breath and stiffened.

"Who are you?" she demanded, voice lowered in a sort of anger at having been marked in such a way.

"Please…miss…I'm Brandon Mayes…I work for Chaldea," the choked nature of his words told Theresa that she couldn't keep up this amount of pressure if she wanted him to speak. She relaxed her grip only slightly and he took in a grateful breath.

"Never heard of it," she said bluntly.

Brandon, if that was his name, twitched in her hold, his grasp on her wrist still tight.

"We're an organization approved by the UN…to find and manage threats to humanity…and to recruit those who might be able to help us do that."

Theresa stared at him unwaveringly, processing this.

"So, if what you're saying is true, you're a bunch of superhero wannabes," she deadpanned. Still, disbelief aside, he had found her and followed her, after making a big deal out of blending in. And he knew who she was. If he really did work for some big shot organization, they could find her again, even if she got out of this weird situation first, "Which does your organization consider me? A threat or a recruit? And why?"

He strained in her hold, toes tapping uselessly on the floor as he reached for it with his feet. He looked at her pleadingly, all of that intensity gone from his expression.

"Please, put me down if you have more questions."

Theresa scoffed. "I'll consider it after you answer those."

He winced but complied without much choice.

"I was dispatched to find you and bring you in for recruitment. If you refuse…then you're a possible threat. We've got footage of you fighting from about three months ago…we've been looking for you ever since."

Three months. Theresa wracked her memory, trying to figure out what fights could have been recorded. Mattie had banned all video recordings and photography in his ring. No one was interested in letting the world know that the old gods still occasionally spawned people who were more than human. It was safer for everyone involved to let the world believe that the old myths were just that. The knowledge that they weren't would cause panic, and the human authorities would undoubtedly move against any demigod they could find, perceiving a threat. Everyone understood that, and everyone respected Mattie's rules, not at all interested in pissing off a child of Mercury. It wasn't one of her fellow fighters. No one was that stupid.

"Fights? I just work at the department store," her mouth formed the lie even as she continued thinking, "And occasionally do some judo."

What other fights had she been in? The ring was a necessary outlet for those descendants of battle gods who had to use their powers in the way they were meant to. Fighting others of their kind kept them from being driven mad by their heightened combat senses and natural battle instincts. As far as she knew…

Brandon made an uncomfortable sound.

"Facial recognition software was used on the footage. It's how we identified you."

"I still don't know what you're talking about," she loosened her grip so that it was tight enough only to keep him in place.

He seemed to have found a more comfortable position in her hold, as he'd stopped squirming.

"The Alps. You were fighting…some kind of monster."

The recognition came at the same time as the self-disgust. Theresa had asked Mattie to keep an ear out for trouble, and he'd never disappointed. The old gods were alive and well, if not diminished, as were some of the creatures who had freely walked the earth during their height. Mostly, Theresa let them be, since they usually withdrew to those places untouched by humans and kept to themselves. Sometimes, though, monsters emerged. When Mattie had informed her of a 'giant killer wolf in the Alps that eluded all attempts to hunt it', she had set out immediately, taking her armor and weapons with her.

"We thought you might be a mage of some sort," Brandon said when she remained quiet, "But you don't fight like one. You could be what we've been looking-"

Theresa bared her teeth in a bout of anger, both at herself and at this meddling organization. If what he said was true, there was no lying her way out of this, despite all of her uncle's hard work in teaching her how to do so effectively. This meant that the man in her grasp was a threat. Her grip on Brandon's throat tightened again and he choked, clawing at her hand as the knot of his tie was driven into his neck by her palm.

"If you watched me fight," she snarled, "You should have realized what would happen when your mage ass approached me so carelessly."

His eyes were wide behind his glasses, already beginning to water.

"If I don't report…" he managed, almost airlessly, "You'll be dealt with…as a threat."

Theresa didn't let up, anger still burning in her veins. His flesh had taken on a steadily darkening purple cast and his feet kicked as he vainly tried to escape. Brandon's fingertips tugged at her hand and wrist, clawed over her coat sleeve in an attempt to find purchase.

"Please…"

It was a bare whisper, almost below hearing due to his lack of air. Theresa considered him, heart pounding in her ears. She should kill him. Eliminate the threat. Choke the life from the arrogant mage who thought to simply walk up and demand she come with him. Leave him as a warning to his organization, who presumed to inform her of how she should be _dealt with_ …

Her phone buzzed.

Theresa's expression cleared and her eyes refocused. _Helena_. She released Brandon and stepped back as he crumpled to the ground, failing to catch himself on his feet. He fell to his knees, landing on his elbows when his hands were fast enough. He gasped for air, coughing raggedly. Theresa stared at him, anger gone, chased away by a sick feeling. She had nearly killed him. Had been fully ready to. She'd literally been squeezing the life from him, undeterred by his pleading. Horror churned in the pit of her stomach, brought about by the realization that she had nearly crossed the line to murder, driven by the all-consuming anger she so often struggled to keep under control. A more unfortunate trait from her father.

Brandon looked up, watery eyes wary and a touch fearful. He held his throat and, beneath his hand, Theresa could see the edges of what would become dark bruises in the shape of her fingers. She breathed a bit harder than normal through parted lips, hands trembling at her sides. Her skin, usually porcelain, was ashen.

"Get out of my sight," she said quietly, voice miraculously steady, "And never contact me again."

Brandon shakily pushed himself upright, his breathing slowly returning to normal. His body posture was defensive now, but, even when death had been imminent, he hadn't unleashed any spells. It was a distant realization in the back of Theresa's mind.

"I won't contact you," he rasped, "But, please, Ms. Macdonough, Chaldea needs people like you. There are some enemies that mages can't handle. Your abilities would be used to make the world a better place."

She felt numb, barely hearing his words, certainly not appreciating his continued attempts at his job despite her previous reaction. Her mouth moved of its own accord.

"No. I have no interest in joining you."

His eyes were no longer intense, or even fearful. Instead, he simply regarded her. Then, he reached into his inner pocket. Theresa instinctively tensed, but, he only withdrew a business card.

"If you should change your mind."

He extended it to her and she robotically took it, her mind fully on autopilot as she plucked the card from his hand. Grey eyes scanned the simple font and rather plain face. It was a card for Chaldea itself, she realized, not for the man who had taken her attempt on his life surprisingly well. She looked up as he picked himself up, still holding his throat, and staggered down the hall on shaky legs.

She couldn't say how long she stood there, staring after him even after he'd disappeared from her sight. Her hand flexed, the sensation of his fragile windpipe under her fingers still present. The sight of the bruises on his skin caused her to clench her fist and grit her teeth, fiercely beautiful features darkening in disgust at herself. She stuffed the card into her pocket and turned on her heel, withdrawing her phone.

The cause of the previous disturbance was indeed a text from Helena. Theresa paused again, staring at the words on the screen.

_Remember, restraint._

A humorless smile pulled at her lips. How well the other knew her. The timing of that particular message had been almost divine. If she didn't know better, she might think that one of their divine relatives had planned it. She quickly tapped out a reply.

_Dealt with it. Tell you when I get home. See what you can find on Chaldea. I'll talk to Mattie._

After pressing 'send', Theresa returned her phone to its original place and moved toward the door in the side of the hall. As she approached, she felt another buzz, this one coming from a stronger deflection enchantment. Ignoring it, she knocked three times, then two, then five. A moment later, the door swung open and she was greeted by the familiar, narrow face of the ring overseer. He looked at her with slightly widened eyes, his red hair tied back from his face. At her towering height, Theresa had to look down slightly to see him clearly.

"Terry, babe, what happened? I checked the cameras when you didn't show for the match and it looked like you were putting the squeeze on some poor commuter. What did he _do_?" he drawled, both amused and concerned.

His presence caused her to relax slightly, not a normal reaction most had to a child of the god of thieves. But, to her, Mattie meant safety in secrecy and comfort in a place where there were others of her kind.

"He followed me down here, Mattie," she said gruffly, "Sorry about the match."

He waved a hand airily.

"Sweetheart, you know I can get you a match any time you want. Got one later this evening, in fact, if you're still interested after... _that_ ," he motioned to the wall, where his security cameras had undoubtedly caught footage of her near-murder experience.

Theresa shook her head.

"I appreciate it, but, _that_ left me with some questions I'd like to have answered."

Mattie blinked up at her in surprise, dark brown eyes far too innocent in a well-practiced act.

"Oh? Questions for _me_?" he pressed his fingertips to his own chest, as though caught off-guard.

She hummed an affirmative, flipping the card out of her pocket to hold it between her first two fingers.

"Yeah. To start, what can you tell me about a group called Chaldea?"

The beginnings of the mischievous glint in his eyes went out, like the dying glow of an ember. He reached out and plucked the card from her grasp, lips pursing.

"Oh, Terry, baby, what have you gotten yourself into?"


	2. It's an Unexpected World

_Red eyes full of triumphant mockery, meeting the embarrassed rage of the goddess. Red like the blood of the Bull, welts caused by binding chains. Somber gold and green stood resolute at the king's side. Supreme arrogance in victory, divine fury clashing. A building whisper, like a chorus of souls._

_"One day, King, you, too, will know scorn."_

_Derisive laughter cut over the whisper. Flashes of opulence in the sun._

_"Resorting to threats, goddess?" echoing, powerful words, stronger than whispers._

_The whisper rose again, spoken from perfect lips._

_"Not a threat. The truth of the future._ "

The sudden sound of the door banging open shattered the trance and Helena gasped in surprise, her hands convulsing on the laptop keyboard and sending the screen into a hectic flash accompanied by the ' _badum_ ' of an error. Forcefully coming out of a vision was always difficult. It was hard to tell where glimpse ended and reality began. For a long moment, Helena remained still on the couch, regaining her bearings, her eyes wide. The desert sun was gone, replaced by the soft yellow glow of the lamp above her right shoulder. The blazing heat, too, had dissipated, and the soft hum of the electric heater filled the background.

"Lena?"

The exhausted question caused her eyes to jerk from the blank wall across the living room. She found her roommate dragging herself into the apartment, shutting the door after she crossed the threshold. Long white blonde hair hung in a loose braid, strands escaping from a day's worth of wear. Her face was tired as she leaned against the wall long enough to strip off her boots.

Hastily, Helena exited out of the error popups and closed her computer, half-read article still pulled up. She stood, moving toward Theresa in natural concern over her worn appearance.

"Ter, what-"

Theresa waved her off, moving past her with heavy steps.

"I'll tell you in a minute. We need to talk this out. And I need a drink."

Helena paused in surprise. Oh, it _had_ been a stressful day, hadn't it? She watched as the taller woman dragged herself into the kitchen, black pants hugging her hips and tanktop stretching across her shoulders. She was exhausted, it was evident even in the way she walked, her steps lacking their usual surety and fighter's grace. She looked as though she'd taken a few too many hits in the ring, but Helena knew that wasn't the case this time. Theresa always gave better than she got. She had lost a total of five matches in Mattie's arena over the past twenty years, mostly because of her sheer grit and determination. Even on the nights of those losses, she hadn't been like this. Defeat had been met with a drive to do better and had led to her returning stronger than before. This...tiredness hadn't been there.

A few minutes later, Theresa emerged from the kitchen, two cans of soda in hand. Her father's blood gave her a high tolerance for alcohol, meaning that when she 'needed a drink' she never went for the obvious. Instead, she ingested something high in sugar. The rush from it was more than she'd ever gotten even after slamming back numerous beers. Helena had watched her down horrible-smelling alcoholic concoctions after being challenged to do and, aside from a grimace at the taste or burn of the liquid, she never showed any outward signs of having consumed it. As best as the pair of them reasoned, it was just an odd quirk from her Norse heritage.

Theresa sat heavily at their dining table, sprawling back, long legs stretched out, pulling her braid out and allowing her blonde hair to fall loosely over the back of the chair. She let the can thunk onto the tabletop as Helena joined her, taking the seat across from her. As soon as she was settled, Theresa slid the other can across to her. Diet soda, which the older demigod kept in store for nights like this. Helena took it with a murmured 'thank you' her eyes still brimming with worry. It was discomforting to see her like this.

Helena's earliest memory of the woman who had become her best friend was from many years prior, when Theresa had threatened a satyr for refusing to accept Helena's rebuttal of his advances. Helena would never forget that moment, when trepidation was replaced by relief as the towering woman pushed her way between the timid demigod and all-too-eager creature, whose lust for human flesh had not diminished despite the weakening of those beings from the Age of Gods. Helena could still see the way those eyes, gray like storm clouds, had snapped with their own internal lightning as her lips pulled in a thunderous scowl. Since then, she had become all too familiar with the storm brewing within her fellow demigod. She had witnessed Theresa's rages, from seething anger to table-shattering fury. The tall woman was naturally inclined to those hot, blistering emotions, though fortunately not as much so as her legendary father.

Still, in twenty years of knowing her, Helena had never witnessed this side of Theresa. A horrible hollowness had replaced the brewing storm. Sitting at their small dining table, Theresa dragged her hand through the top of her loose hair, throwing it into disarray. The untouched can of soda sat on the table before her as she lounged back in her chair, throwing one leg carelessly over the other, one arm dangling over the back of her seat. Helena's brows furrowed slightly as she wrapped her hands around her can, taking in the wet coldness that began to run down the outside of it and spread over her skin. When her roommate returned at nearly ten that night, an hour much later than usual, after a confusing series of texts concerning something called 'Chaldea', Helena wanted to immediately interrogate her. But, the tiredness that radiated from Theresa's normally strong frame deterred her. Instead, she waited, her eyes absently tracing patterns in the worn tablecloth. The table they sat at was a simple thing, just big enough for the two of them, with chipped paint and a wobbly leg. They'd picked it up at a secondhand store, but it served its purpose. It also served as the choice location for serious talks. Theresa was silent aside from the occasional sigh, and it was taking all of Helena's willpower to allow her to organize her thoughts without interference.

She wondered if she should break the silence by accounting her most recent vision, so similar and yet so different from those previous. Theresa always seemed to appreciate the distraction of idly attempting to reason out their meanings. As a child of the god of prophecy, Helena was inclined toward what she had named 'Glimpses'. They came in dreams, brief flashes, or, sometimes, trances that disconnected her completely from her surroundings. She had no control over them, and it would be a potent power if she had any idea what she was seeing. Her grandfather had once told her that these Glimpses revealed things that were, things that are, and things that will be. The issue was, Helena had no true way of knowing if what she saw had already come, was currently occurring, or had yet to pass. Though, Theresa certainly enjoyed the challenge of using the details within them to figure it out. They so often featured that same man, always in a different setting, doing something different. She'd seen him even as a young child, when she was just growing used to them. The imposing figure with his golden hair and red eyes and arrogant smirk had been a constant presence in her dreams and visions for decades. This last one, she was fairly certain it was a Glimpse of the past. And it had been one of the handful in which she actually heard dialogue.

Her thoughts were halted as Theresa leaned forward and snatched up her soda, cracking it open. A sign that she was ready to talk.

"After I texted you about that guy," she said without preamble, "He tried to follow me to Mattie's. I caught him and got him to talk. He said that his organization, Chaldea, caught footage of me fighting in the Alps three months ago."

Helena immediately changed course and cast her mind back, trying to remember what had occurred then. After a moment, she placed the incident. Theresa had responded to reports of a monstrous wolf terrorizing the locals there, and, upon arriving, found a Direwolf, a bloodthirsty creature straight out of the old legends. It had been a hard fight, and Theresa had returned with a particularly nasty claw mark on her arm.

"Footage? How…?"

Theresa shrugged one bare shoulder, taking a long drink. The muscles of her arm coiled beneath her pale skin, uncommonly defined for a woman, but not grotesque. Statuesque might be the proper term, another mark of her divine blood that so often drew unwanted attention.

"Not a clue," she replied, setting the can down again, "But, they identified and found me, that's the point. He said something about me being either an asset or a threat and being dealt with accordingly," her eyes narrowed, "I lost my temper…" her fist clenched on the tabletop, "Lena, I almost killed him. If you hadn't texted me when you did, I would have strangled him. He was turning purple and I didn't stop…"

Sensing her friend's disgust with herself, Helena put aside her own shock and reached out to touch Theresa's clenched hand. She wouldn't say it was alright, because it wasn't. Theresa was known for losing her temper, and, in all honesty, Helena had been afraid that she would choose a violent method to deal with her pursuer. That was why she'd sent the reminder when she had. It saddened her to know that her worries had been valid. Still, she didn't want Theresa to take this as some kind of confirmation that she was a monster. They weren't human, not completely, but neither were they monsters. This was something that the younger Demigod had struggled with since her childhood, past experiences complicating her views of herself and what she was. For Helena, things were different. Her lineage had far less human blood than Theresa's, but she could at least empathize. She honestly wasn't sure what she would have done in the face of the perceived threat. After all, they had been together for so long that a threat to one was a threat to both, and if it had been Theresa's life in danger by extension…

She felt a surge of bitterness just considering what this mage had put her friend through and quickly quashed it.

"It's over. He's still alive. Take this and move on. Learn from it, but don't dwell on it. What happened then?"

Theresa looked at her for a moment, hand slowly uncurling under her friend's. Then, she nodded, taking a breath.

"He gave me a card. It's in my coat pocket, I'll show you in a minute," another long gulp of soda, as though to steel herself, "I took it to Mattie, figured if anyone would know, he would…" she looked down at the table, frowning again, "I was right. According to him, this Chaldea group is a little-known mage organization that operates with the full knowledge of the government, both magical and non. UN-sanctioned, Tower-approved, and all that. They gather assets to go out and deal with threats to humanity."

The warrior's frown faded for a moment, changing into a self-deprecating smirk. Helena hated that expression. Theresa, for all her bravado and strength, didn't have much confidence in herself. She would say she did, but she didn't see the way her uncertainties showed. In her mind, it was no wonder she'd somehow screwed up and attracted attention. Helena desperately wished she could see that there was no need to-

"Mattie said it was quite the honor, being sought out by them. Then he said that, now that I'm on their radar, I won't be getting off easily. Even if they said they'll give me space, I've attracted their attention," again, her eyes narrowed, "And according to that asshole, if I don't join, then it's possible the Mage Association might try to get involved."

Helena squeezed her hand quickly, aiming to keep her calm. She herself was having a hard time. This was…big. That word was all Helena could supply to describe it. They'd been going about their lives, just…doing what they did, going to work, watching movies, eating takeout, wondering when the landlord would notice that they weren't aging quite as they should, and this happened. Still, she had to be the one who remained calm in this situation. Theresa's emotions were already flying high. They'd been discovered, in the worst way possible. It was all so sudden...the Tower and the Government both were aware of them now, no doubt. To the point that they knew how to find them. Every vague mention of Chaldea she'd managed to find had connected it to the Tower. Scenes from those horrible spy movies Theresa liked so much played in her mind's eye. People being taken into rooms deep underground, forgotten by the world and at the mercy of their captors-

 _Stop_ , she commanded herself, _Breathe_.

That was a far-fetched outcome. The Association wouldn't dare strike at a Demigod without provocation. And, even if it did happen, they had advantages mortals did not. The best thing to do was prepare and overcome. Besides, nothing a mortal could dredge up would be any worse than some of the things they had already witnessed. She doubted Britain's government had anything that came close to the horrors of the Fields of Punishment. Or Theresa's description of Surtr, the giant who would bring about Ragnorok.

"Even if it comes to that, we'll face it together," she said gently, "Did Mattie say anything else?"

Theresa nodded, shifting her hand so that her fingers intertwined with Helena's, grounding herself.

"He asked that I stay out of the ring for a while, just in case these guys start actively looking for Demigods and decide to use me as their lead. Said he'll be in touch if he hears anything else," she sighed, dragging her free hand through her hair again, "Said I should at least give them a call to clarify this, not to make a big deal of it," she chuckled, a choked sound, "Only he would make a joke out of a mage organization hunting someone down to recruit them…."

Helena's lips twitched at that. She'd only met Mattie a few times, but the son of Hermes had proven to be quite the character in those meetings. When they'd first been introduced at one of Theresa's matches, he'd recognized her immediately as one of Apollo's children and swooped in to hug her, declaring that it was excellent to meet another cousin. Then, he'd handed her back the necklace she'd been wearing, smiling unabashedly.

"I agree with him, actually," she murmured, "I think you should call them, ascertain what they really want. Clear up this whole mess."

Theresa looked at her for a long moment, grey eyes having lightened to the color of a cloudy sky rather than a storm front.

"…if you think it's wise," she finally assented, "I'm not certain it will be that easy, but I'm willing to try."

Helena nodded, giving her hand one more squeeze. Then, she pulled back, finally opening her can of diet soda. Theresa slammed the rest of hers back in one huge swallow, sucking down so much sugar in one go that Helena felt a flash of worry. She really was shaken by this whole day, wasn't she?

"I guess I should apologize for that guy too…" she muttered, setting the empty can down.

Her eyes flickered back to Helena.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to," Helena said gently.

Theresa's expression tightened in distaste. Helena always had a way of stating things that were true but unpleasant to hear. They both knew that she was unlikely to apologize to the mage, but it was the reminder that Helena was not the only one keeping her accountable that grated. She huffed through her nose, a sound that further emphasized just how much she disliked the reminder.

After a long moment, in which she was obviously gathering herself, Theresa pushed up from the table, the worn wood protesting. Helena watched her go with worried eyes, taking another sip of her soda. Theresa was the type of woman who was used to fighting. She'd grown up in a war-torn place and time before Odin retrieved her and saw to her training. Battle was what she knew, and not much frightened her. This, though, was different. A fight for victory, or even a fight to the death, made sense to her, the same way that the motions of driving made sense to anyone trained in the skill. Feeling cornered and hunted was a new sensation, and it had totally thrown her off. She wasn't afraid, per say, but she was ruffled. It didn't feel natural. Helena could tell by the way the storm in her eyes had arisen like a distant flickering of lightning. Her natural inclination was to face the perceived enemy head on, but there was no one to face.

There was also the issue of Chaldea being a mage organization. Demigods were wary of mages. A particularly powerful individual could harm a Demigod fairly easily if they knew what spells to use and how to use them. On the other hand, a powerful Demigod could do harm to a mage. As such, the two groups regarded each other with wariness. The thing that worked against the Demigods was that they were far more divided than the mages. It was unusual for them to pack together simply because putting more than a few magical entities together in a concentrated area tended to draw the wrong type of attention. Things happened, mortals noticed, or worse, beasts arrived to attempt to feed on partially divine flesh. At one time, it had been dangerous because a leader among the mages had suggested that the presence of Demigods would upset the balance of the world and called for their destruction. Fortunately, that had been before either of their times. The current truce between the two groups was likely the greatest boon they had at this point. The mages wouldn't attack them outright, but this was still too delicate and dangerous a situation for either of them.

Theresa and Helena's time spent living together had been surprisingly quiet, especially when they were so close to the Clocktower. Normally, the mages didn't like it when Demigods entered their territory, but the British Isles held a surprising number of both groups. Helena theorized that it was the innate magic of the locations that had drawn them. As such, it was not uncommon for them to brush shoulders in the street, dutifully ignoring each other. She sometimes wondered if the general populace of mages even recognized what they were anymore or if they had faded into legend...

Theresa paced into the kitchen, dropping her empty can into the recycling bin before wandering back into the common room. She retrieved her coat from where it had been slung lazily over the arm of the sofa and pulled her phone from within its pocket, along with the card Brandon had given her. For a long moment, she sat on the couch, considering it. Then she punched in the number on the card and put it on speaker, her face tense as she held the device near her face.

Helena watched, her breath stalled in her chest as she reminded herself that fear was a crippling enemy. Logic would help them overcome this. Theresa's eyes glared into the same blank wall that Helena herself had been staring at only short while earlier during her trance. The ringing echoed in the small apartment for a handful of seconds that dragged on into an eternity.

The receiver clicked, causing them both to jump slightly. Helena felt anxiety-induced nausea swirling in her stomach as a pleasant female voice answered.

 _"Hello. You have reached the office of the director. Please state your name and business_."

No confirmation of who, exactly the director was, or of the organization's name. Odd. And the woman's cheery tone was certainly not expected, either. They glanced at each other, eyes meeting briefly.

"Theresa Mcdonough. I was given this card by someone named-," she paused, frowning in her attempt to remember, "Brandon?"

The faint sound of clicking keys confirmed that they were speaking with a real person, and not a computer. Then, the woman spoke again.

_"Ah, yes! Thank you for calling, Ms. Mcdonough. We're glad to hear from you. Unfortunately, the director is currently unavailable. Though, I do know that he will be excited to speak with you. If possible, we would like to arrange a video call in order to communicate more directly. Do you have the capacity to do so?"_

Theresa's expression had morphed into one of puzzlement. She glanced at her laptop, laying on the coffee table next to Helena's own.

"Yeah, I do."

The woman on the other end wasn't put off by her confused tone. At least, if she was, it didn't show.

_"Excellent! Would tomorrow at the same time be acceptable?"_

Theresa paused, just long enough to turn the interaction a bit awkward. She and Helena stared at each other, mirroring the other's thoughts. Wasn't this supposed to be an organization run by holier-than-thou mages? Weren't they going to report to the Tower to send some taskforce or asset to deal with them as threats? After all the tension and fear, scheduling a video call seemed so...normal. Either there had been some kind of misunderstanding...or the higher ups of Chaldea were devious enough to lure them into a false sense of calm.

 _"Ms. Mcdonough_?"

Shaking herself, Theresa replied.

"Yeah. Should be fine."

More keys clicked, the woman on the other end of the line humming in affirmation.

" _Very good. I've scheduled your meeting. Director Archaman will be in contact with you tomorrow. In the meantime, is there anything else I can help you with?"_

Theresa's confusion had yet to fade. She cocked her head, looking down at the phone as though the woman could see her bewilderment through the receiver.

"Uh...I have a question. This is Chaldea, right? The mage organization?"

The woman hummed pleasantly in affirmation.

" _Correct, you have reached Chaldea. And yes, we are staffed predominantly by mages. Unfortunately, I'm not sure how much I am at liberty to discuss, and will leave that to the director. He'll have more information regarding our function, your potential duties, and the benefits included. Do you have any other questions_?"

Again, the two women exchanged a glance, Theresa mouthing 'benefits?'. Helena shrugged slightly, looking just as puzzled.

"No, I don't have any other questions," Theresa said, "Thank you."

 _"Of course! We look forward to speaking with you. Have a lovely evening_."

The receiver clicked and a dial tone sounded. Slowly, Theresa hung up as well, still frowning heavily. Helena blinked owlishly as she tried to process what had just happened.

"...Did I just schedule a job interview?" Theresa finally asked.

Helena considered this for a moment and then nodded once.

"That's certainly what it sounded like."

The tall woman stood, rubbing her forehead as though to force her thoughts into order. She was silent for a long moment, scowling at the floor as though it would give her answers.

"...What the hell?" she finally said.

Helena nodded again. That was a good response. It was what she was saying internally, too. What the hell had just happened? And what the hell had they gotten into?

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome! This story was posted under my previous account 'Jaxrond', and when I deleted that account, I really had no intention of continuing this. Then the muse returned and I said well why not? So, here it is!
> 
> This is an AU, meaning it isn't completely canon compliant. Please keep that in mind while reading :)


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